


Live Entertainment

by inusagi



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Boredom, CCTV, Exhibitionism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inusagi/pseuds/inusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack doesn't handle boredom well. Thank god for CCTV. Day 21 of the July TW Oneshot challenge (Posted late). M for reasons! Janto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish. And if wishes were horses, we would all run our fandoms. That’s how that one goes, right?

I was bored.

Mind-numbingly bored.

Bored with a capital B.

 _Booooored_.

There was a reason I lived at the Hub. There was always something to do, always some Weevil sighting to take care of or Rift Alert to see to.

We’d had absolutely _nothing_ for over a week. No Weevils. No random futuristic tech falling through the rift and mind-controlling a handful of bored housewives at the Tesco’s. No spaceships crashing into old folks homes in Swansea and eating more than a dozen pensioners.

 _Nothing_.

Boooooored.

The others were keeping busy. Tosh was fiddling with some sort of hacker program. Owen was synthesizing new anti-Weevil spray. Gwen was...well, Gwen was apparently doing wedding planning on the clock, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Two out of three wasn’t too bad. Before the incident with the…glove thing, Tosh would have been the only one doing something productive. Owen would have been looking at porn, no matter how much he claimed to be reading up on medical journals.

Ianto, true to form, was the busiest of us all. He’d been in the Archives most of the time, but in Myfanwy’s eyrie more than normal. He said he was teaching her tricks.

I’m hoping that they’re the type of tricks you’d teach a dog. It’d be hilarious.

But I didn’t really care about that, either. Myfanwy was Ianto’s pet. I don’t think she even liked me. But then, I didn’t bribe her with chocolate at every available opportunity, either.

I _did_ care about Ianto. My snarky, adorable Welshman was the perfect cure for boredom.

I found him on our CCTV, up in the Tourist Office. He was half-watching some teenagers nick key chains, half reading. I couldn’t make out what it was, but I strongly suspect Ian Fleming wrote it.

I sent a message to his PDA.

 **JH/09:52:41** _Why do you let them steal?_

He looked up at the camera and winked before answering.

 **IJ/09:54:23** _Part nostalgia, part apathy. Besides, what kind of sentence do you reckon they’ll get for stealing fifty pence key fobs? Better to lull them into a false sense of security and set them amongst the public with their own arrogance. Pride cometh before the fall._

I laughed loud enough for Toshiko to glance up at me.

 **JH/09:59:45** _Sounds like someone’s speaking from experience. What are you wearing?_

I could see him rolling his eyes. I loved it.

 **IJ/10:01:13** _If you can see our local kleptomaniacs, you can certainly see my clothes. Not that I’ve changed in the twenty minutes since you’ve last seen me._

 **JH/10:02:35** _And have I told you lately how much it turns me on when you wear red?_

 **IJ/10:05:03** _You may have mentioned it once or twice when Martha sent that beret along._

Oh, yes.  That was hot. Ianto, the inexperienced young soldier. It always turned me on how well he stepped into whatever random role I asked of him. Sometimes, I suggested things just to see if he’d go along with them. He did, he always did. And it was always so _sexy_.

I fixed my suddenly too-tight trousers.

 **JH/10:07:24** _I’m going to ask her for the whole uniform. Maybe a Major’s. You can be a big, bad CO and I’ll be a helpless POW. You can interrogate me._

I watched Ianto read the message and put his PDA on the desk, next to the already-abandoned book. He said something to the teenagers, who took off like their trainers were on fire. He clicked a button under the counter and got comfortable before answering.

 **IJ/10:13:32** _The_ _things that go on in your mind sometimes worry me_.

 **JH/10:13:51** _Come downstairs and I’ll show you just what’s going on in my mind._

I could barely make out his smirk with his new position, but I knew he was. He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up. I loved seeing him like this—prim, proper Ianto sprawled out, languid—and Ianto knew it.

 **IJ/10:15:02** _I’m comfortable_.

 **JH/10:15:43** _I can see that. Undo your tie some._

He did. He unbuttoned his waistcoat first, far more slowly than necessary, letting it fall open and then tugged on the knot at his throat. So sexy.

 **IJ/10:18:16** _Much better, sir._

I drew a bit of a blank there. I didn’t want to ruin the mood Ianto was in. It was rare for him to…uncoil like this during working hours. But I also didn’t want him to stop.

 **JH/10:19:03** _Looks it._

Yeah. Smooth, Jack.

 **IJ/10:20:31** _My trousers are a bit tight, though._

When I looked up from my PDA, Ianto was staring at the camera again, at me. His long, deft fingers were working on his belt, then the button.

Then the zip.

I gulped.

He was toying with his device again.

 **IJ/10:21:44** _That’s MUCH better. Very comfortable. Are you watching me, Jack?_

I nearly dropped it. 

 **JH/10:22:02** _Yes._

Ianto took his cock out of his trousers and started stroking it.

 _Shit_.

It was a beautiful sight. His eyes were closed, those luscious, kissable lips parted.

I’m hard, so hard it almost hurts, but my office…my office is made of damn _glass_. I’m hiring a carpenter, I swear.

Just as soon as Ianto is…is…

He’s arching his hips off his chair, just slightly, and throwing his head back. I can’t hear his moans, but I can almost see them. The phantom sound vibrates through my body in just the same way it does when he moans into my skin.

He’s close. I can see it in that little furrow in his brow, in the way his chest is heaving like he’s run a marathon.

Ianto clawed at his shirt, that pretty crimson that I love so much against his heated skin, pulling it the rest of the way out of his trousers and pushing it up his chest. Always thinking ahead, my Ianto.

His _face_ when he came…I’ve lived for decades and decades and I’ve never seen anything quite so exquisite. So…expressive. He was so… _so_ handsome right in that moment, even through the CCTV. He was sprawled on the chair, his over-polished shoes propped up on the counter. His clothes were a mess, wrinkled and askew and perfect. His face was flushed, so relaxed and come pooled almost artistically on his navel. So handsome.

I watched him come down, put himself back together. All I wanted to do was to muss him back up.

 **IJ/11:14:23** _Still bored?_

**JH/11:14:42** _Get down here. Now._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The word was “boredom.” Ian Fleming wrote the James Bond books. The timestamps were…I don’t know. To be honest, they’re only there to amuse me.   
> This was originally going to be a Truth or Dare thing with the whole Team, but the plot bunnies got vicious.   
> Anyway, I’m still working on the whole lemon-y scene thing, so any feedback there would be useful. Thanks!


End file.
